"I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. "How shall I get to you?" "My yacht is in the river. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. Abruptly would come the end. And then! a garment that was conceivably a secondary skirt. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. “Go it, miss!” cried one.
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