She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. F. Wood's house was broken into and plundered.
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