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. Smith had never seen anything like it. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream.
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