Most people, every one I know else, seem to have mated with foreigners and to talk uneasily in unfamiliar tongues, to be afraid of the knowledge the other one has, of the other one’s perpetual misjudgment and misunderstandings. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. "That depends upon you. “I refuse. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. The servants had left the room.
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