He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. . ’ ‘I dare say you do,’ said the general, grim satisfaction overtaking his anger as his prophesy proved accurate. At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music. I’m glad you’re back for all sorts of reasons. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley.
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