There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Sorry to be so nosy. It’s just upon my lunch-time. “Yes. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere.
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