” Brendon reappeared, followed by a tall thin man with a stubbly brown moustache and restless grey eyes. He was heartily thankful for it. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. A garrison called to arms at dead of night on the sudden approach of the enemy, could not have been more expeditiously, or effectually aroused. “How has the world taken it?” he asked.
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