’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. I’ve had a lot on my mind. ” Capes suddenly abandoned his attitude of meditative restraint. ‘I knows how to do better nor any surgeon. “Thanks, Cathy. Wild's busy. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. “I want to be your friend,” he said.
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