” “I believe you,” she murmured. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. Somehow logic could not explain her. She felt like a dried-up old woman. A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. When the lad is fit to be moved, we’ll bring him home. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered.
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