Other things came. What is done cannot be undone. “You do not know what you say. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. 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. Little more’n a week. But probably not the truth. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly. He saw now that it was merely a boy. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person.
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