“MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. ” “Isn’t it. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. ” Her father declared there had been no difficulty. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. “Why not? It might amuse me. Before Michelle could go on, Lucy interjected, \"You must have quite a course-load with all those heavy books.
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