‘Yes, don’t interrupt me,’ said Captain Roding severely. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. But this chap is good wine yet. She twisted to meet him and folded into his embrace. Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape.
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