" "'Zounds! Captain, I shall get my death of cold. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly.
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