"No, Sir Rowland," replied the attendant, "as you proposed to ride to Saint Albans to-night, I thought you might choose to see him yourself. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. "Manuscripts! Why, this chap is a writer, or is trying to be. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it.
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