One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. It seemed at this moment, however, that there was not going to be any “fun”, and Captain Roding said so. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. " On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day.
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