Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. Let me see now. Doctor Ralph came in to tea and put his arm round Alice and kissed her, and Alice called him “Squiggles,” and stood in the shelter of his arms for a moment with an expression of satisfied proprietorship. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad.
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