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CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots. " "Don't worry about that. “Holcroft,” he remarked, “in bald language, and with the usual limitations of his clouded intellect, has still given some slight expression to the consternation which I believe I may say is general amongst us. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. Why, that boy could hide for thirty years—without the girl. She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate.
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