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"Y-y-you really m-mean it?" he asked, eagerly, as though fearing the return to daylight might already have altered her decision. "C-can I c-call on you wh-wh-where you s-s-said?" She smiled sweetly down at him, her eyes picturing undisguised admiration of his generous proportions, and frank, boyish face. "Si, si, señor. Sapristi, why not? 'T is I, rather, who 'fraid you forget to come."
The boy laughed at his riding, but Yates was too much engaged in keeping his position to mind that very much. "D-d-dirt is s-s-said to b-b-be matter out of place, and that's what's the m-m-mat-matter w-w-with me." His conversation seemed to be shaken out of him by the trotting of the horse. "I say, Bartlett, I can't stand this any longer. I'd rather walk."
At last an automobile rushed up the street, and McGivney stepped out, and the automobile sped on. Peter got McGivney's eye, and then stepped back into the shelter of a doorway. McGivney followed. "Have you got them?" he cried. "I d-d-dunno!" chattered Peter. "They s-s-said they were c-coming at eight!"
That's exactly what I want to do. So let's be off." "I s-s-said y-you," corrected Master Sturtevant, rising and taking a few cautious steps to test the state of his legs. He found them usable, though rather wobbly about the knees, and would have started off across the ravine's bottom had not Katharine caught and held him.
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