I am the cause of his ill-usage. 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. He got up brusquely. Oh, you cannot escape from it. Better to remain silent. Not like my father. When he tried the scullery door, and would have moved on, Hilary intervened. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child.
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