The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. This time he couldn't get far. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. "You'll feel better after it. " "Agreed. When I shall go to the lawyers that have the interest of this estate Remenham, you will come with me. Anna stood looking down upon her sister with grave perturbed face. And, lastly, there's Mr. ***** From the comatose state, Spurlock passed into that of the babbling fever; but that guarding instinct which is called subconsciousness held a stout leash on his secret. She was honest again. The perception of him flooded her being.
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