Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. She was keenly resolved to do well in the school examination, and not to be drowned in the seas of emotion that threatened to submerge her intellectual being. She saw his face change, how he regretted. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses.
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