" At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. . It doesn’t matter with me, but there are at least a dozen young women in Mr. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. I stole away and walked to the railway station.
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