"And now," said Thames, (for we must still preserve the name,) "you will no longer defer my happiness. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison.
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