In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Part 8 “Why should I ever come back?” she said to herself, as she went down the staircase. A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Every time you mention the father, she turns into marble.
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