For I still love her mother. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. “You’re great, Lucy! I had no idea you were so great!” John exclaimed. ’ ‘What?’ uttered Gerald, startled. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place.
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