Mr. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. . “I wonder how it is,” she exclaimed, “that my friends have so much more confidence in me than I have in myself. Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage.
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