"Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. It was not for a week or a month. She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him.
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