“What did it matter?” she cried. 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. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. Heaven forbid. She has power over men’s fates in more ways than one. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. ” He nodded.
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