"So I did," retorted Mrs. ’ ‘I’m coming to that. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. Queer world. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. Neither combatant could use his sword; and in strength the fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. His perseverance was amply rewarded.
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