Selling out of the Army to take up his inheritance had spelled boredom to Gerald Alderley. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. He became angry. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. You'll find her at Black Mary's Hole. He was confounded by the presence in which he found himself.
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