The twenty pounds burned with avidity. . Her thoughts were busy with the possibilities of this break in her journey. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. That was the glorious if bewildering truth. " "Have you seen him?" asked Trenchard. “Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls.
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