There are way-stations—even terminals. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. ’ ‘Undoubtedly,’ Gerald agreed. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. He obeyed, letting the garment fall to the floor. Vee’s all right. " And, having partaken of a hasty breakfast, he set out.
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