The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. Spurling, squeezing Jack's arm, and pushing him towards the door, "and, don't come here again. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. . m. ” “Of course I am.
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