‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill. She had come to the end of her resources. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. Once he chuckled aloud. She had been so young then. She would have to leave very soon. Remember what the conjuror said. Something, I'm convinced, has happened to the boys. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly.
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