She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand.
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