“So you found Rhea, I see. Good-bye aunt. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. It was the girl. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. " "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. I might have told you the truth. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall.
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