" "The Black Lion!" echoed Terence. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. “So how about this Friday?” He asked. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. Then came the cable that you were in Canton, ill, but not dangerously so.
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