She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. I took him out of the hands of death. I must bless him before I die. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession.
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