"Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. For a time she worried about that compulsory bath and cutaneous diseases.
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