“Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank. Maggot, whose nerves were more firmly strung, she contented herself with waving her hand affectionately to her lover, and encouraging him by her gestures. .
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