" "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. ‘Merci, dieu. ” “It’s the perpetual trouble,” he said, “of parent and child. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. I shall still believe in you. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. I shall not part with you again.
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