All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. At least, I hope so for his sake as well as my own," he added, mentally. " "I hear nothing, Sir," laughed Austin. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt.
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