“Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. ‘Jacques?’ she called. They were drenched with water and suds. "Of course, I haven't the least evidence that the boy has done anything wrong; it's what I'd call a hunch; piecing this and that together. ’ Gerald grinned. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself.
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