Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. Look here. But that title he would not endure. Let me make your future for you. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. He still watched her and questioned her.
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