Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. Her patience was waning fast. "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. ” She stopped abruptly, afraid that Ramage might be able to infer Capes from the things she had said, and indeed his face was very eager. That is my way, my dear.
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