. " "I cannot consent to it," replied Sir Rowland firmly. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. . ” The man nodded. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell.
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