"What's the matter?" he cried. ‘Tell me, my boy. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. ” “It’s been coming on since first I came into the laboratory. ’ Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. “What a little brick!” he murmured.
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