. . ’ She moved quickly to the nearest bookcase, and listened intently to the sound of Jack’s voice. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. “I’m just in time to say good-bye before I go, father. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about.
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