Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. "A missioner! That illuminates everything. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. She felt herself getting into a corner.
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