Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. But shortly this movement ceased. We are very poor, but manage to squeeze a little happiness out of each day. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. 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.
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