” The lady in black satin looked at the pile of luggage outside and hesitated. But—if you are a friend of Mr. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. Montague Hill. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me.
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