” Mike said as he opened the door. “Well, anyhow, consider it open. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. ” She paused. His smile faded. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester.
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