"Mrs. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. The contest was now carried on between Rowland and Darrell. " "I'm afraid I don't understand. And let's see if either of these women, who prate of their love for you, will do as much. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. “They seem to come to you as naturally as disappointment—to other people.
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