No more scuffling. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. She finished the olive and looked up. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. "I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet.
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