On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. "Where?" "That can wait," she answered. "Oh, I've read that!" Spurlock had heard distinctly enough all of this odd conversation; but until the spinster's reference to the family album, no phrase had been sufficient in strength of attraction to break the trend of his own unhappy thoughts. He had bled everywhere, but she had struck when the opportunity was ripe. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be. “Cheveney!” she repeated. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. She was supposed to be lifeless; but she survived the accident, though she never regained her strength.
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