The captain saw it too and nodded at the boy. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. My foster mother, Sheila, insists that I go to St. ” He went to the window and fidgeted with the blind, looking out to where the tree-tops of Regent’s Park showed distantly over the houses. “There is my aunt,” she said. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. Mr. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. .
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