He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. " "Never to return," remarked Jack, gloomily. "I'm sorry, Mr. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat.
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