” Her voice trembled with suppressed passion. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck. No idea that you were here, though. After all, that was life. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. ” “There’s a sort of instinct of rebellion,” said Capes. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Sometimes I think I’ll miss them and I start to cry, but I’m ready to have a life of my own.
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