’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. . ” She muttered some unlady-like comment upon herself under her breath and engaged in secret additions.
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