’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. “Do you happen to know whether she is supposed to be here?” “Very likely indeed,” Captain Fred Meddoes answered, lighting a cigarette. I've a couple of kinchens in yonder rattler, whom I wish to place under old Sharples's care. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion.
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