\"This is my best friend, Mark. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. "These writer chaps are queer birds. I’ll be ready in a moment. " Sheppard was no match for his opponent, for, though he possessed more science, he was deficient in weight and strength; and, after a short round, in which he had decidedly the worst of it, a well-directed hit on the nob stretched him at full length on the floor. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever.
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