She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. ‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. There was a long silence between them. Nevertheless Sydney, clumsily, but earnestly, had something to say about it. Not fit to be dust on your boots. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. ” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. "Hoity-toity! You owe me sixteen thousand dollars.
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