“Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar steps. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. What does he do these three days?’ She had come daily to the vestry, hoping to meet the lad and hear his report.
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