“Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil.
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