‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hearing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to when two horsemen rode up.
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