"His lordship desires me to say—ough! ough!" Fresh groans and hisses. And then: “Of course! Always. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. Wood, was pronounced by that lady to be very much sprained; and she, forthwith, proceeded to bathe it with a reddish-coloured lotion. Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home.
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