"Ah! I see. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. The venturous climber gazed for a moment at the assemblage beneath, to ascertain that he was not discovered; and, having satisfied himself in this particular, he stepped out more boldly.
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