After partaking of some little refreshment, and changing her attire, Mrs. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. She looked up, and recognized Mr. I can't bear it. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. "You didn't spend it?" "I never intended to spend it—any more than I really intended to steal it. "What is this?" she wanted to know.
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