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In concealing himself behind the timber, Mr. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. He got up. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him in accomplishing his design. ” The tired woman shut her eyes tightly for a moment, and then looked with them at Ann Veronica. " "None whatever," replied the mob. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic.
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