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"We'll see that, you yelping hounds!" rejoined Jonathan, glaring fiercely at them. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. She seemed to be endowed with superhuman strength. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. One night she apparently fell asleep. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. Do you remember your first day with me?.
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