’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. ’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. His eyes closed. There's our young friend upstairs. “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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