The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. She gloried in it: he needed her. I didn’t understand before that letter. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. “How do you feel?” she asked. The bridge was open. I spoke a thought aloud. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door. "Owen, Owen," pursued Mrs. Thames said not another word, but marched boldly towards him, and seized him by the collar. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression.
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