It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. I'm about to leave this country for ever. Kneebone's visit, Mrs. Go up and get my daughter so we can have some homemade pie. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. Then came the shock of the knowledge that soon he would be going upon his way, that there would be no one to depend upon her; and all the old loneliness came smothering down upon her again.
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