She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. But no; she must step warily. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. “I am going to fetch some things that will be wanted if he pulls through the next hour.
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