Wood was scarcely seated before Mr. . “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. ‘How did you know that Mary was his daughter?’ Gerald hesitated. ’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. . ” Lucy replied. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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