I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. Now I do. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. CHAPTER IX. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. He couldn't have taken Mr. Laugh on the wrong side of your mouth, now. He glanced up. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue.
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