She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. "It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!" "Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?" "Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding the question.
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