Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. Our land brings us in nothing. I’ve never had these crying fits before. “I wonder if they will seem altered,” she remarked for the third time.
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