By the side of her plate was a small key. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. ToC During the whole of the next day and night, the poor widow hovered like a ghost about the precincts of the debtors' garrison,—for admission (by the Master's express orders,) was denied her. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. She would never, never go back. It was a brief solitude, however. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. “There is no doubt whatever about that. " "A young fellow who thinks he's in love, when he has only been reading too much. ’ A radiant smile dawned. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish.
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