The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. Spurling: "I blush for you, Sir! To call yourself a man, and interfere with the natural course of affection! Have you no feeling for the situation of those poor disconsolate creatures, about to be bereaved of all they hold dear? Is it nothing to part with a husband to the gallows? I've lost four in the same way, and know what it is. "Those tears will do you good. Easy enough to look as if one rides away. Tell me about your island.
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