This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. ’ ‘No, I won’t. " He stuffed the printed chintz into her arms and smiled into her eyes. ” She paused. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. "I was in the right, you see, father," observed Thames, smiling; "Jack has done his task.
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