“I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. I don’t think for a moment that he would recognize you. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. I am sorry to seem to hurt you, but all I say is for your good. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. And now her father said she must not go. She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. “I didn’t blow up the house.
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