All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. I must not let you go again. . Return, I implore of you, to your master,—to Mr. U. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. "I don't know," she answered vaguely. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. Mrs. 1. ” Anna was silent. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall.
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