His manner was deferential, even eager. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. "Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. There’s plenty to be got out of life in a decent sort of way. That’s the wonder of it. The chair was torture. ‘Didn’t mean to say that. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages.
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