The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. “But all the rest of our case is right. Mr. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. “Do you happen to know whether she is supposed to be here?” “Very likely indeed,” Captain Fred Meddoes answered, lighting a cigarette.
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