235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. I’ve got imagination. I’ve never had these crying fits before. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. ” “Sir John is an ass!” he declared. " "Come along!" cried Jack, darting through the door.
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