She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. Last night there had been no time. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s.
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