“What do you think you are doing?” He asked. “I am dying to renew my acquaintance with London, Mrs. . “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me.
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