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But those days are over—quite over. ’ ‘How can you possibly enquire for her?’ demanded Hilary acidly. "Where is he?" he cried. ‘All right, Trodger. Too easily roused emotions and too little passion. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. “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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