“And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. " ***** "To me, you dirty blackguard!" cried Spurlock, flinging aside his helmet. And, if you hear any odd noise in the parlour, don't mind it.
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