The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. Give me your hand. Ha! ha! ha!" "Jack!" exclaimed Thames, angrily. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. Kneebone, then, sat down to await the arrival of his expected guest. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. “It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver.
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