The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. “No, I mean that we should assemble ourselves in case your parents arrive home. Sometimes I think I’ll miss them and I start to cry, but I’m ready to have a life of my own. “One can’t tell. ” “For you. “DEAR MR.
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