"There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. "Follow me, Thames," cried Jack, dropping into the chasm. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures. But not so much a pig as that man. He made it brief. You know that. THAMES DARRELL.
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