She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they plied her with a dozen requests. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. It’s no good hiding it any more. " "Oh, God!" cried Jack, "she does not know me.
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