Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. And here against a wall were the plumtrees. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to stand at bay. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. You must come back. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay.
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