Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you some precious sport. Wood. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. Always! I don’t believe there is any strong natural affection at all between parents and growing-up children.
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