He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. This was his humiliation as well as hers. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. I must not let you go again. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. She agreed entirely with her brother. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. . “You are certain of this.
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