“The one who used to live at Lyndmore. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. “Yes I did. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. CHAPTER VII. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is. . ” “But that is ridiculous!” he exclaimed. ” He stopped abruptly.
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