" "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. "Have you been more successful, Sir?" ventured Ireton.
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