"It must look sharp then, or I shall give it the slip," laughed Ben: "the gale never yet blowed as could perwent my crossing the Thames. “John, don’t!” she cried. Escape was now impossible. Dump popped his head into the cage. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. ” She commanded. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly.
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