'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy. “Afterwards,” she said, “I should be perfectly content to have everything done for me. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away. There are two ways to go in, you understand. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets.
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