To-morrow they will know the truth. The imbecile. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. ” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. I want to boast myself. ’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. Let this be a caution to you in future—with whom, and about what you deal.
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