“He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. She was a little paler than when she had come to London, a little paler and a little thinner. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. Shortly afterwards,—it seemed an age to the anxious mother,—Mr. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. You certainly had to hand it to these Chinks. .
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