She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. " So saying, she planted herself between Jack and the turnkey.
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