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Updated: May 23, 2025
All the while she never spoke a word, because a stranger was in the room. "You know me, Olga, don't you?" "Mm." "But you look so angry." "M-no." "How's the snow track across the fjeld?" "All right." I knew there was a deserted hut the family had once lived in, and asked: "How far is it to your old hut?" "Not far," said Olga.
M-no!" said the Squire, as if confirming himself in a conclusion often reached already in his own mind, "I saw by the way he began to-night that there wasn't anything to be done with him. It was fight from the word go." "Well," said Mrs. Gaylord, with gentle, sceptical interest in the outcome, "if you've made up your mind to that, I hope you'll be able to carry it through."
"M-no!" said the Squire, "he was on his high horse. He knows he aint in any danger now." "Aint you afraid she'll carry on dreadfully, when she finds out 't he's gone for good?" asked Mrs. Gaylord, with a sort of implied satisfaction that the carrying on was not to affect her. "M-yes," said the Squire, "I suppose she'll carry on. But I don't know what to do about it.
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