The palanquin is hired and so is the procession. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. She resolved to go into the City to Ramage and ask for his advice.
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