“I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. . ‘What started you off, you madman,’ Roding told him frankly, as he set about tying his handkerchief around the wound, ‘was being born at all. “You are talking like a boy. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled.
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