"And, does any of our bright blood flow in the veins of a ruffianly housebreaker?" cried Trenchard, with a look of bewilderment. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. He entered the room with his usual deliberation, and looked covertly about him.
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