They had not to tarry long. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. Dollis Hill revisited. Rollo barked. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously.
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