‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. She met him by the dugout after the game. The raising of twenty-five pounds was a task altogether beyond her powers. She recoiled. “Vee,” she said, “come home. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too.
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