. . . “Where should we go?” Knowing that they would be dogged wherever they went, she volunteered, “Let’s go to the Big Apple. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. 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. "Take me, then," replied the widow. But I have two hundred thousand pounds. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing.
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