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THE INHERITORS
ever meet again?" My voice came huskily, as if I had not spoken for years and years.
"Oh, very often," she answered.
"Very often?" I repeated. I hardly knew whether I was pleased or dismayed. Through the gate-gap in a hedge, I caught a glimmer of a white house front. It seemed to belong to another world; to another order of things.
"Ah . . . here is Callan's," I said. "This is where I was going. . . ."
"I know," she answered; "we part here."
"To meet again?" I asked.
"Oh . . . to meet again; why, yes, to meet again."
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