Mrs. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with.
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