She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. “Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. ’ Then all at once remembrance made her smile. Why? Because Howard Spurlock the author dared not risk the liberty of Howard Spurlock the malefactor; because there were still some dregs in this cup of irony. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both.
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