’ ‘Don’t be stuffy, Hilary,’ admonished his betrothed. ‘Ah, grandpére. ” Manning tapped with his racket on the turf through some moments of silence. . The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am.
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