CHAPTER XII. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. ‘Eh bien, Eugénie. " O'Higgins emptied an inside pocket—and purposely let the battered photograph fall to the ground. He was an odd one, especially for a young man. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind. In a moment they were in the street outside. Only him big hoss padlock—noting else. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself.
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