“I will go,” he said. ‘Yes, do,’ approved Lucilla. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline.
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