. ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. " "'Zounds! Captain, I shall get my death of cold. “I’ll try to stop by. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. She paused. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment.
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