I ought never to have thought of it. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. Spurlock—for that's his real name—were married at high noon. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography. By your father, Sir Montacute Trenchard's will, you are aware,—and, therefore, I need not repeat it, except for the special purpose I have in view,—you are aware, I say, that, by this will, in case your sister Aliva, died without issue, or, on the death of such issue, the property reverts to Constance and her issue. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. He still watched her and questioned her. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. Little more’n a week.
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