‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. Capes joined the students at tea, and displayed himself in an impish mood that sometimes possessed him. “I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. “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.
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