“My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. "Got the rooms mixed. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. ‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good.
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