“Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard. First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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