Part 3 She dressed carefully for dinner in a black dress that her father liked, and that made her look serious and responsible. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. That is good. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard.
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