‘I believe that. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station. “Why?” “I still love you. His little doll. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all.
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