Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. What about them?” He called a hansom. Furiously, she dashed his hands away. “I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. But they did what they could for her. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. "I'll be back in a minute.
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