“Well?” he asked her tersely. ’ ‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ conceded Gerald. "I thought I heard a scream. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. The bus however was full. But a total stranger, a man you never saw twentyfour hours ago! It can't be thought of. . "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs.
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