She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. More than ever Sir John was glad that he had sat down. While this was passing, Jonathan had ridden back to Marvel to tell him that all was ready, and to give him his last instructions.
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