"Is your father alive?" "No," returned Thames; "he was assassinated while I was an infant. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. She wrote it down. You've saved my life. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn.
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