‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. He agreed it was disgraceful. "So much the better," rejoined Sir Rowland. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. "It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!" "Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?" "Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding the question.
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