" "I know not how it is," sighed Darrell, "but I feel an unaccountable misgiving at quitting this place. I just don’t know where to start. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. “I suppose, Vee, you don’t see much of those Widgetts now?” “I go in and talk to Constance sometimes. Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up. "Certainly not," replied Gay. He will not come.
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