"Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—"what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm expecting a visit from Mr. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face.
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