CHAPTER III. My father thought the latter. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. "Yes!" interrupted Spurlock, savagely. ” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone. Suddenly he stopped short. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her.
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