Michelle stopped by the Beck’s after school that day. But it was of no avail. He can't be far off. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. “Bother it all!” she swore. “May I hear?” “It really isn’t much to tell,” Drummond answered. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention.
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