Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. "God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII. No! That was impossible.
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