"Who are you?" inquired Mrs. Stanley was throughout enigmatical, with an anxious eye on her husband and Alice. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire.
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