The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. “Shhh. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. I have never in my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. “See you at school tomorrow.
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