That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. D. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. "And so, you really suspected me?" murmured Mrs. Earles attended her obsequiously to the door. Don’t stand gawping, man.
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