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Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. He appeared to be strangely uncommunicative, though I tried to draw him out. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. " "I am at a loss to understand you Sir,", said Trenchard. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. “It’s—it’s a difficult question. " Captivity had, indeed, produced a striking alteration in Thames. It was after all a momentary affair. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched.
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