’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. I have an aunt who is coming to live with me, and I do not intend to receive any visitors at all. "She has flown up stairs," replied the widow. Clotilde announced that she would not be back and she was taking Fritz and Anna forever. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her.
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