The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. " "What!" exclaimed Mrs. With her foodle doo! "I've a toast to propose," cried Sheppard, filling a bumper. Then, naturally, I went on talking. "Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me.
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