’ ‘Do you take me for a fool, Hilary?’ demanded his betrothed. She would not let her move. CHAPTER XIX. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. " "A penny, if you please, Sir," said the hawker. I suppose most of our daughters would marry organ-grinders if they had a chance—at that age. .
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