Hope reared. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. ‘Least of all, one who takes advantage of another’s misfortune. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. I'll dig it up. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary.
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