Good riddance. A dressing-room then. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. " "The deuce he has!" cried Dump. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her.
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