” So only a few minutes after Ennison’s departure, while Anna stood indeed with her sister’s open letter still in her hand, Courtlaw drove up in hot haste. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. "The plot's out!" cried Jack.
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