"What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. “It is the worst of including in our vocabulary words which have no definite meaning, perhaps I should say of which the meaning varies according to one’s personal point of view. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. The word handsome was a little beyond her grasp. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil.
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