To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. "You are," replied Kneebone.
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