“MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. But, be like a son to her. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. "Buck up! While there's life there's hope. They don’t know who did it, actually. ‘You can if you like.
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