By that delightful morning when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were scenting the air quite impartially, as if Mr. Raffles had been a guest worthy of finest incense, Dor-othea had again taken up her abode at Lowick Manor. Af-ter three months Freshitt had become rather oppressive: to sit like a model for Saint Catherine looking rapturously at Celia‟s baby would not do for many hours in the day, and to remain in that momentous babe‟s presence with persistent disregard was a course that could not have been tolerated in a childless sister.
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