" "And leave you thus?" rejoined Jack. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. This I know, for the Valades have taught me so, and the nuns also. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. She has even found them accommodation in the house where she is putting up herself.
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