When they were home, the pair headed for the Big Apple or the warmth of the Beck’s family table. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. ’ ‘Captain Roding, sir,’ put in Gerald, adding on a jocular note, ‘Another of the green whippersnappers you had to contend with some years back. "I will, when I catch him, rely on it," rejoined Wild. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. Woof! What a dog. I’ve had a lot on my mind. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. "Can I help you, Jack?" asked Thames, taking up a plane.
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