" With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. "Do you still refuse to make one!" "I have made one," replied Lady Trafford. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked.
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