He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. . If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. CHAPTER XXX. "I've the Bridewell account to settle. "Where did you get this from?" asked Wild, greatly surprised at the result of his investigation. She could think of nothing more to say. “All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. I can’t help it. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr.
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