It’s not you—not a bit. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Sydney Courtlaw—Mr. ” He threw his head back. I'll be quiet. Earles?” he inquired. ” “Not now. The parlour was cluttered but cosy.
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