CHAPTER XXVI. "There! off with you!" whispered Mrs. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. Dear me, what a difference it has made! No one would ever think that we were sisters. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again. Why should you who are queens come down from your thrones? If you can afford it, WE can’t.
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