"There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. “The fellow is not such a blackguard, after all. Only think how compromising. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Hilary.
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