" "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. ‘Jacques?’ she called. She wanted him so badly it hurt. For Manning it would be a more temperate love altogether. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. “Have either of you been out of this room since you discovered what had happened?” he asked.
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