It was Missy and Michelle in her grandmother's old Buick. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. “It is very nice of you to come, but I do not think for the present, at any rate, I could give him any other answer. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. Wild's name. And, if I can render you any service, you may command me.
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