With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. “I liked him, and I never undeceived him. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. " "I see. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. I do not wish to blow off a head, you understand. "It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard.
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