‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. He tried this sentence with expletives.
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