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She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. Every moment or two he bent over his patient. Manning as they talked. " "But why not?" The doctor dallied with his teaspoon.
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