The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. Want to walk home today? Lucy slipped the paper into her English textbook.
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