Giles's. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. It was enough that she witnessed it and could not go to him. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. Poor little one.
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