Maggot, laughing. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. She jumped up at once, caught up a leather clutch containing notebooks, a fat textbook, and a chocolate-and-yellow-covered pamphlet, and leaped neatly from the carriage, only to discover that the train was slowing down and that she had to traverse the full length of the platform past it again as the result of her precipitation. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks.
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