‘Your niece, ma’am. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. She said that your mother was only fifteen when she went to live with them. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones.
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