We’ll have some buttered toast. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. "Then you haven't heard?" "Of what?" "Well, well!" cried the manager, delighted at the idea of surprising the doctor. " "You're not going to betray me!" cried Jack, in alarm.
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