” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. ‘Now then, missie. "I never wear false whiskers," went on O'Higgins. “You did not tell me that you were going out, or I would have offered my escort. He’s riding down the drive. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell.
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