Endless complications ensue when both sisters return to London. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. The rest she meant to keep for her immediate necessities.
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