One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. He would have to probe further. ” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. I’m a soldier, you see. I have plenty in common with Mike. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL.
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