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She was quite the rage, in a small way, you know. “I dare not,” she answered. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. "He seems infatuated about the lad," observed Wild. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears.
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