" "Have you seen him?" asked Trenchard. Wood, furiously. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. Grimly Hilary smiled to himself at the effect of Gerald’s name. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. "Jack," said Mrs.
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