” 209 Clotilde was no fool. Manning, abruptly. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. “I suppose I shall have to write an answer. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream.
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