” She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night’s supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like! A Frenchie is what you are, and there ain’t no granddaughter Charvill no more. Out of all this we have struck a sort of harmony. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man.
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