As time wore on, and they did not return, Mr. " "Mend!" echoed Mrs. " "Not utterly," rejoined the other. ” He greeted her. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. He shall have the estates. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch.
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