He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. Captain Roding either did not know, or did not remember that she had it. He had a wild impulse to shout. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing.
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