” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. At last, she breathed. He deserves none. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had.
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