“Poor old Alice!” Her brother Roddy came to her and demanded tea, and asked her to state a case. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. Jonathan shook his head. When you don’t have any fingers left, I take a toe. So he liked to go by a different train.
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