She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. “Only it is much too late for you to be out alone. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. ” “Well?” “Sir John came to me—that you know—and you can guess what I told him.
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