A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. And what will they do, and where will they go?" "With me—the both of them. It's always hard work for a rich man's son to stand alone. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead.
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