And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. What would he come as? Presently she roused herself with a guilty start from the task of dressing and re-dressing Mr. "But, however, it may turn out, I disown you.
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