"What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. ‘That’s just it. " "Egad, Jack," said Gay, "you should write your adventures. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. ” She stared hard at her finger-nails. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox.
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