“My Mom never gets a good night’s sleep. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. I knew it. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat.
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