“I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. He wore a black tail coat buttoned tightly over his chest, and a large diamond pin sparkled in a white satin tie which had seen better days. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. “Dear me!” he said. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. CHAPTER XIV. ” She solemnly replied.
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