"Your sympathy is being wasted. . ’ She sipped at the liquid in her glass, but her eyes remained fixed, rather unnervingly, on Gerald. ” “Capital!” Mr. . Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. This is something above all rules. I don't think he'll come to himself too soon. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady.
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