A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. “You know—,” said Mr. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. A tall elegantly dressed woman, followed by a maid, came down the broad staircase. [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Photoplay.
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