What a heat that news had wrought. His voice had broken. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. Nor can we. I’m glad you could come. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. “We always have things out with OUR father, poor dear!” said Hetty. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting.
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