After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it. White——” “No more,” Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. —I'll soon find you out. A Madame Valade and her husband.
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