“No!” he said aloud at last. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. . Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. Mr.
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