’ ‘She will have taken him with her. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. Jests are not for seasons like this. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. I suppose an intelligent person OUGHT to be interested in political affairs. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. Gerald swore. ‘I had no need of the place, and there was no money, of course. But it's French manners, I suppose. And, incidentally, check on that unfortunate young fellow Kimble. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things.
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