But here's that old woman--the butler's wife--listen to this.

She writes: All I can tell you, Miss, is that my poor husband directed his letters to the name of H.
Walter." Renouard's violent but repressed exclamation was lost in a general murmur and shuffle of feet.

The Editor made a step forward, bowed with creditable steadiness.
"Miss Moorsom, allow me to congratulate you from the bottom of my heart on the happy--er--issue.

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