The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland. "And when I further tell you," continued Jack, "that, after yourself and my mother, I am the next heir to the estates of my grandfather, Sir Montacute Trenchard, you will perhaps own that my caution is sufficiently disinterested. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. It is the vapouring school girl. He found, however, that now the time had come he utterly lacked the courage to attempt any such speech. It was now a quarter past twelve. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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