He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. “I’m next, Mr. I've come all these miles for this young fellow; but I don't cotton to the idea of lallygagging four weeks in this burg. And, yet, I don't know. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. \"I told you he likes you!\" She whispered hotly into Lucy's ear.
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