\" Mark was tall and skinny, a mop of brown hair over a pillar of freckles. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. Sydney sprang up. What the editor had to say none of the three cared just then. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. ’ Gerald shrugged. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day.
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