She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. " "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. "Stir a foot, at your peril.
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