It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air. Did you grow up at the Valade estates? You were born a Valade, I take it, even though your father is English. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested.
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