Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. “Mom, this is the girl I asked to Prom, Lucy. The marriage cannot—shall not be delayed. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers.
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