. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. "You are out betimes this morning, Mr. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. ” “Straight?” “Not a bit of it! He’s been out after eight per cent. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force.
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