"I have hurt you because I would not trust you. A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics. I wouldn't touch the stuff for all the pearls in India. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. Creeping stealthily up stairs, unmasking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs. "What has happened?" asked Sister Prudence. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions.
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