No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. E. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. “But, forgive me, you are tired.
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