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. So long as they're about, I'll always be rewriting them and wasting my time. CHAPTER I. ” “I’ve told you,” he said. " "And what should a young man like this one have to forget?" Prudence demanded to know.
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