You will find it somewhere in that book. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. Wood. " "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. The washerwoman reported that she had seen a man one day riding out for an early morning hunt, but was unsure of his identity.
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