Thames Darrell III. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky.
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