“How’s the star?” John’s father asked. I am afraid, Anna, just a little afraid, that in Paris I and my friends here might seem a trifle advanced. Do you know how late it is?” She nodded. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. This won’t do. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated.
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