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It is not at all what I expected either. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. I’ve had a headache all day. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. "Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy.
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