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" As Ben spoke, they drew near the opposing parties. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. “Well, no,” she answered. Mr. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. I've a couple of kinchens in yonder rattler, whom I wish to place under old Sharples's care. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray.

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