A sinister thought edged in. He came over to me. "Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. Hastily, he reached for the door. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity.
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