The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. "Then we're imprisoned. How the deuce, though, am I going to account for her? People will be asking questions when they see her; and if I tell the truth, they'll start to snubbing her. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. "It gladdens me to hear you talk thus, Joan," said Wood, in a voice of much emotion, while his eyes filled with tears, "and more than repays me for all I have done for you. His smile faded.
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