’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. " "But I'm used to that, Hoddy," she said, eagerly. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. As soon as he gets into blue water, he'll think no more of pitching the boy overboard than of lighting his pipe. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern.
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