She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Daughters were not like sons. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. . Her finger-nails dug into her flesh.
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