” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. You will observe that a coronet is embroidered on it. For she and this old lady became at once friends. It was really very jolly to talk to a man in this way—who saw the woman in her and did not treat her as a child.
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