From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. " "What is this to me, Sir?" said Trenchard, cutting him short. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. Anna herself opened the hall door. " "A clever device," replied Jonathan; "but it won't serve your turn. So Mrs. “I suppose there’s no way of getting a decent income—independently.
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