The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. There was little fighting spirit here. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. “It was fine and brave of you. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. "Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears.
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