Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. ” “The truth!” There was a brief but intense silence. In vain Wood protested his innocence. Presently. ‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors. Yes—as he would have liked. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. But you—you have a good face. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. I know nothing of that young lady. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment.
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