Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them. The door to the library burst open. So far the thing was acceptable enough. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. It’s like this: You want freedom.
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