Mr. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. Another long interval elapsed. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. Her lips parted, but no words came. But I don’t think she lays hold of one so.
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