But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood.
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