1 I dare say I should have lived, too.
2 '"I've lived on th' moor with 'em so long.'
3 Perhaps he lived in the mysterious garden and knew all about it.
4 '"Tha' shapes well enough at it for a young 'un that's lived with heathen.'
5 "If she had lived I believe I should not have been ill always," he grumbled.
6 Pick the prettiest ones and easy to grow because she has never done it before and lived in India which is different.
7 Mistress Mary always felt that however many years she lived she should never forget that first morning when her garden began to grow.
8 Martha liked to talk, and the strange child who had lived in India, and been waited upon by "blacks," was novelty enough to attract her.
9 Since so many rooms had been built, people must have lived in them, but it all seemed so empty that she could not quite believe it true.
10 "It's the strangest house any one ever lived in," said Mary drowsily, as she dropped her head on the cushioned seat of the armchair near her.
11 She was watching the passing buses and cabs and people, but she heard quite well and was made very curious about her uncle and the place he lived in.
12 All that troubled her was her wish that she knew whether all the roses were dead, or if perhaps some of them had lived and might put out leaves and buds as the weather got warmer.
13 Living as it were, all by herself in a house with a hundred mysteriously closed rooms and having nothing whatever to do to amuse herself, had set her inactive brain to working and was actually awakening her imagination.
14 The stories she had been told by her Ayah when she lived in India had been quite unlike those Martha had to tell about the moorland cottage which held fourteen people who lived in four little rooms and never had quite enough to eat.
15 He wanted to know how long she had been at Misselthwaite; he wanted to know which corridor her room was on; he wanted to know what she had been doing; if she disliked the moor as he disliked it; where she had lived before she came to Yorkshire.
16 But she thought over it a great deal afterward; and when Mrs. Crawford told her that night that she was going to sail away to England in a few days and go to her uncle, Mr. Archibald Craven, who lived at Misselthwaite Manor, she looked so stony and stubbornly uninterested that they did not know what to think about her.
17 She never remembered seeing familiarly anything but the dark faces of her Ayah and the other native servants, and as they always obeyed her and gave her her own way in everything, because the Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed by her crying, by the time she was six years old she was as tyrannical and selfish a little pig as ever lived.
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