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Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour. "Going to befuddle himself between now and dinner," was the comment of Prudence. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. I learned the trick of the place from one Paul Groves, who used to live here, and who contrived the machine. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. ’ She paused, holding her nurse’s eyes. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. . Rank ingratitude, I call it.
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