"There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. Probably a sick man's whim. ’ ‘So that was it. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. “And what will Mr. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother.
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