They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. He first met her when he had caught her smoking behind the Joliet LaudrO-Matic one cool overcast day in late August. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. And on Monday and Tuesday she had failed to find him here. But if I were you, I shouldn't warn Spurlock. Here your nephew will speedily be thrown.
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