At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. ’ ‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. To-morrow we'll raise our first island.
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