He could think about it later. ‘I will do so. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. 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. “You are an impostor.
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