"Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. ‘She may well try to go back. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. ’ Gerald grinned. “So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears. He had “put his foot down,” and said she must not go. ” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. The reply he received this time put him into a state of continuous bewilderment. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. ‘Hates doing the pretty. We men are like children. And nothing to tell her where to begin.
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