She awoke at 11:12 am, her foster sister snoring in the bed across the room. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean.
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