Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. I hope I may never come near her. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. I'm heading for bed. She did not wait, but grabbed up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry. Mr. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow.
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