Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. "I was in the right, you see, father," observed Thames, smiling; "Jack has done his task. Before you go I'll give you a list of books to read. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. “Mr. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned.
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