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had tried every chair in the room, from the straight-backed uncompromising one nearest to the dining-room to the wide-armed "Sleepy Hollow" in the alcove, but none of them fitted her restless mood. Twice she had resolutely settled herself on the wide, old-fashioned, pillowy lounge, arranged the pillows at head and back with infinite pains, drawn the bright-colored afghan over her and resolved to rest; only to spring up again in five minutes and renew her walk up and down the room, broken only by a pause to peer out first at the western and then at the southern windowindow [sic]. It was a pleasant enough prospect outside. The rain had been falling in torrents, and the little river which it had made still gurgled down the gutters, glistening in the brilliant moonlight. The street was quite still. During the hours which Mrs. Edmonds had waited there had been the sound of many feet; and the sound had Rh