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“I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. ’ He nodded. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. There was a case, or something, some years ago. Was he really awake? The arrival and departure of this strange father lacked the essential human touch to make it real. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. Ireton and Langley had returned from a second unsuccessful search; Marvel had come thither to bid good-night to Mrs. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. His smile faded. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. ‘A convenient desire, Mademoiselle Charvill.
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