In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. "Try!" Enraged at the assurance of his mistress, the woollen-draper endeavoured to carry his threat into execution, but all his efforts to remove her were unavailing. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. There is nobody, then?" "Oh, there is an aunt. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr.
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