’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. "I knew his poor mother, and for her sake I'll not see this done," cried John Dump. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.
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