\" She whispered back. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. Nigel Ennison was he. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage.
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