I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. There’d only be endless rows if I was at home. He continued tenderly, almost affectionately. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. " "Never mind it, my dear Mrs.
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