He declined to come in. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. A girl—at my age—is grown-up.
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