” “Right,” he answered. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. ‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path.
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