"I cannot—will not suffer you to remain here. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. "Bess wouldn't bear a rival. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. We’re different.
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