“A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. ’ Both Valade and the granddaughter gazed at him blankly. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. A thousand eager assistants pressed behind him. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. Wood, leaping from the bed. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers.
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