The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. " Spurlock, who was absorbing this talk thirstily, laughed. " "I have. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. “We parted— that night the best of friends.
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