She placed the freezer back on top of Ray Plote's old hiding place, now his permanent resting place. “Bother it all!” she swore. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told. ‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why.
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