Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. It was horrible. There was more to be told, and this was as good a time as any. ” She replied vaguely. "How, Sir?" "Except by adoption. ” “What’s our lot?” asked her sister. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. But finding all continue silent, he cautiously lifted the latch, and crept into the room, resolved to punish the offender in case his suspicions should prove correct. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. " CHAPTER XIX.
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