" "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. . “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. I will have nothing to do with you. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so.
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