I wonder——” He turned slowly round. About them quickly. Every moment. “No, that’s fine. “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. ’ ‘Will you have done, Gerald?’ demanded Hilary, exasperated. And then her pace slackened. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension.
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