He had now reached the adjoining house, and, scaling the roof, approached another building, which seemed to be, at least, one story loftier than its neighbours. “Dear John,” she whispered. “Lucy, are you feeling all right?” He asked concernedly. At times I swear I’ve never met a more jaded fifteen-year-old, and your lie about being sixteen didn’t get by me for one second, believe it. And though I say it that shouldn't say it, no man can tie a better knot.
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