"There's Sharples," cried Quilt. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. It generalized everything she put to it. . And Pottiswick, of course. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. ” “I suppose all men,” said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, “get some such entanglement. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority.
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