She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. ‘In this case, I will not kill him at all, even that he should have remained to wait for my letter. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. "I'm dumb. He flipped the television off. “Not at all. ” She thought of her father, and with an effort dismissed him from her mind.
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