Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. If you love me, do not allude to this subject again. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. Norris, she revived a little.
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