She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared. Wood—and after him came his daughter. A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. A nod was exchanged.
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