’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. She opened and read it at once. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often.
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