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’ Roding’s voice changed. Wood. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. " With this, he appeared to pluck up his courage, and stepped forward more boldly. “Certainly her voice is far more musical. ” He said to her, quite unsure of whether or not he was dreaming. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. “You’ve grown out of them. “Well, rather,” said Ann Veronica.

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