‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. . Taking the wind was her business in life. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. On this side of the canal she has no place to go. Come back with me to-night. It'll be your turn to save mine next. Killed is too kind a word.
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