” Their eyes met for a moment. " "She is a matchless creature!" exclaimed the young man. He envied her a little. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. But she veiled her feelings. She could not speak. You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter. ’ Reminiscence made him smile. She continued to fan herself.
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