"Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked.
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