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” “Miss Ellicot! That old cat!” Sydney exclaimed indignantly. CHAPTER XXVII. Mere formality. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see.
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