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Updated: May 28, 2025
The moment I opened the door of the study, I saw my uncle in his think-chair, his head against the back of it, his face turned to the ceiling. I ran to his side and dropped on my knees, thinking he was dead. He opened his eyes and looked at me, but with such a wan, woe-begone countenance, that I burst into a passion of tears. "What is it, uncle dear?" I gasped and sobbed.
"Let him rest a bit, little one," he said as we entered. "It is long since we had a good talk!" He seated himself in his think-chair a name which, when a child, I had given it, and I slid to the floor at his feet. "I cannot help thinking, little one," he began, "that you are going to be a happy woman! I do believe that is a man to be trusted.
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