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. The other lay unconscious in a heap. He understood. ’ ‘Exactly so. Apologizing to Sir Rowland for this unpleasant reception, and swearing lustily at his servant for occasioning it by leaving the dogs at liberty, Jonathan ordered the man to light them to the audience-room. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians.
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