Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. From midnight until morning he was now left alone. "Now, Mr. . 7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1. ‘Pitiful. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them.
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