"What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. G. " "Ship her back to her father"—sagely. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. These starlings varied in width, according to the bulk of the pier they surrounded.
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