“We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. He's had a hard knock somewhere; and until he is strong enough to walk, we must keep his interest away from that thought. “Better,” said Ann Veronica, with an unreal alacrity. E. .
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