"Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. I know my son's voice too well. ‘Of course it is,’ corroborated Hilary. "But you mustn't indulge these gloomy thoughts. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. It's never a bad day that has a good ending. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. "Hush!" she said.
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