But this word comes not. In vain does the angry urn hiss. The teapot holds aloft its haughty nose for naught. The cups and saucers range themselves in military order all for nothing. Lady Rodney is dissolved in tears.,
She flushes, opens her lips as if to speak, and yet is dumb,—perhaps through excess of emotion.,
"Do not take her away yet,—not yet," he says, in a faint whisper..
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