The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. ’ ‘But he’s a major of militia, miss. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. He no longer made love to her, as there was no point. Would you stand by me—and her?” “My dear Nigel!” she exclaimed. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips.
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