Brendon and I are great chums,” he went on nervously. ’ ‘Get on, Hilary, do,’ begged Lucilla. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. It slipped out—as did that “she”.
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