To get behind that impenetrable curtain, to learn why she hated her island. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. Mr. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. She has blue eyes, and her figure is more full. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour.
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