"It must look sharp then, or I shall give it the slip," laughed Ben: "the gale never yet blowed as could perwent my crossing the Thames. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. “Shopman. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them.
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