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If she read that the heroine of the novel was nursing a sick man,

she longed to move with noiseless steps about the room of a sick

man; if she read of a member of Parliament making a speech, she

longed to be delivering the speech; if she read of how Lady Mary

had ridden after the hounds, and had provoked her sister-in-law,

and had surprised everyone by her boldness, she too wished to be

doing the same. But there was no chance of doing anything; and

twisting the smooth paper-knife in her little hands, she forced

herself to read.