He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. ‘So now you may safely cease your roundaboutation, and tell me what took you to Remenham House. ” “Why not?” “You see, if I do go home my father objects to the College, and as for typing —” “Don’t go home. ‘Dunderhead. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard. You'll find me at supper. Nothing, in short, was too extravagant to be related of it; and Jonathan, who delighted in investing himself and his residence with mystery, encouraged, and perhaps originated, these marvellous tales. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder.
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