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Neither could they do anything without Sophy. Somebody'shair fell down, and nobody but Sophy could put it up. Somebodyforgot how a particular tune went, and nobody but Sophy could humthat tune right. Somebody wanted to recall the name of a place inDevonshire, and only Sophy knew it. Something was wanted to bewritten home, and Sophy alone could be trusted to write beforebreakfast in the morning.
Florence is ready on the staircase to departtoo; and Miss Nipper, who has held a middle state between the parlourand the kitchen, is prepared to accompany her. As Edith appears,Florence hastens towards her, to bid her farewell.Is Edith cold, that she should tremble! Is there anything unnatural orunwholesome in the touch of Florence, that the beautiful form recedesand contracts, as if it could not bear it! Is there so much hurry inthis going away, that Edith, with a wave of her hand, sweeps on, and isgone!Mrs Skewton, overpowered by her feelings as a mother, sinks on her sofain the Cleopatra attitude, when the clatter of the chariot wheels islost, and sheds several tears.kopasbov
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