" "That child may be the means of saving me," muttered the stranger, as if struck by a new idea: "I shall gain time by the expedient. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. They are not your flowers. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Our quarrel's quite over. “So Mr. “Me and my bright ideas.
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