CHAPTER VIII. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. ’ She waved towards a handy table to one side which was piled high with so many volumes, it looked in imminent danger of crashing to the floor. Only I just want him. For that my father so stupide was in love with this Suzanne Valade, is it not?’ ‘Well, miss,’ temporised Mrs Ibstock, ‘we didn’t rightly know that then. . Earles attended her obsequiously to the door. .
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