She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. Pilgrim's Progress, The Life of Martin Luther and Alice in Wonderland (the only fairy-story she had been permitted to read) were the sum total of her library. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. ” Michelle sighed.
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