Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. ‘Well, this maid,’ went on Kimble eagerly, ‘and me, we gets to talking, see, and that’s how I knew he were off to this party. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica.
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