"Do me the favour to seat yourself, Jack," said Sir James. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. " Ruth brushed her eyes with one hand and with the other signed for the spinster to stop. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. "What! refuse to see a person who desires to speak with me.
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