" "My negligence, Mr. Both these ladies possessed considerable personal attractions. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. But that possibility had been anticipated. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. While he was swinging in mid air, Thames regarded his uncle with a stern look, and cried in a menacing voice, "We shall meet again. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. ‘Difficult, I grant you. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. ‘Never would he have gone to England.
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