’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. . The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage. The Well Hole. "Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. ’ ‘What?’ gasped Gerald, shocked. "I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan.
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