"Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. ’ Melusine was beginning to fill with dread and a burgeoning of anger as the meaning behind his words began to penetrate. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders.
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