"I'm tired of your enigmas," he cried, angrily. "What is it you wish to tell me?",
"Not ten, only eight! He went away when I was seventeen," I answered with dignity, wishing I dared be snappy at him: though I never am.,
"Sleeping in the library. I saw that all was safe about midnight, and then sat down over a book and fell asleep. I woke somewhere about three--".
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