. . "You shall see him to-morrow. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. White was scattered across the long stretches of pine trees and corn fields. She could not realize what she saw. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. " "From whom?" vociferated Trenchard. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. The arrival of la tante Prudence late next day had changed all this, it is true. " Spurlock grew limp in his chair.
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