Austin could scarcely credit his senses when he beheld him. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. Lost from all protection, all her family dead—as are mine. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. His tone was kind and sympathetic. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers.
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