Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. “It rests with them by the nature of things. "You dropped this, sir. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. "No such thing," rejoined Thames. " "Come along!" cried Jack, darting through the door. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house.
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