” “Never,” he exclaimed vehemently. . "Sounds as if I had heard it, but I can't place it this minute. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. Kneebone and his Friends. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Both Ruth and McClintock came down to the launch to wish him God-speed and good luck. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. “I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving.
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