She twisted her fingers tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. So long. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed.
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