In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. "Well reminded," answered Rowland, who had witnessed his struggles with a smile of gratified vengeance; "I had forgotten the accursed imp in this confusion. It was not your fault you failed. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. You would not have believed me, I know well. "Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done.
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