The boy would naturally attract the women, if the women were at all romantic. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. "I thought you were asleep. Petrified and speechless, he turned an imploring look at Wild, who was himself filled with astonishment at the pile of rubbish lying before him. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne.
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