CHAPTER XIII. " "I have promised. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. ’ ‘Well, let us leave your name for the present.
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