ToC Thames Darrell's arm having been submitted to the scrutiny of Mrs. She confided in me yesterday. “You are late,” she murmured. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. The streets were full of colour. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself.
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