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nicety of choice not common to him.
She came up to him, unobserved, and, taking him by the arm, enquired, with a questioning smile—"What are you doing, Allan? and who are those peaches designed for?"
"For Rosamund Gray"—he replied—and his heart seemed relieved of a burthen, which had long oppressed it.
"I have a mind to become acquainted with your handsome friend—will you introduce me, Allan? I think, I should like to go and see her this afternoon."
Do
