A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. "Quite captivated, Ma'am," added Mr. ” “You have not seen the evening paper?” “No.
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