The evenings were dulcet and soft. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. \"Yes, uh, no. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. ” She blushed deeply. Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner.
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