“I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. In a moment they were in the street outside. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family.
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