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Chronicles of Avonlea by L. M. (Lucy Maud) Montgomery
page 43 of 269 (15%)
sight of him opened up anew a sealed fountain of bitterness in
her soul; but the thought of Sylvia somehow stemmed the
torrent, and presently the Old Lady was smiling rather
triumphantly, thinking rightly that she had come off best in
that unwelcome encounter. SHE, at any rate, had not faltered
and coloured, and lost her presence of mind.

"It is little wonder HE did," thought the Old Lady
vindictively. It pleased her that Andrew Cameron should lose,
before her, the front of adamant he presented to the world. He
was her cousin and the only living creature Old Lady Lloyd
hated, and she hated and despised him with all the intensity
of her intense nature. She and hers had sustained grievous
wrong at his hands, and the Old Lady was convinced that she
would rather die than take any notice of his existence.

Presently, she resolutely put Andrew Cameron out of her mind.
It was desecration to think of him and Sylvia together. When
she laid her weary head on her pillow that night she was so
happy that even the thought of the vacant shelf in the room
below, where the grape jug had always been, gave her only a
momentary pang.

"It's sweet to sacrifice for one we love--it's sweet to have
someone to sacrifice for," thought the Old Lady.

Desire grows by what it feeds on. The Old Lady thought she was
content; but Friday evening came and found her in a perfect
fever to see Sylvia in her party dress. It was not enough to
fancy her in it; nothing would do the Old Lady but seeing her.
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