half lion and half woman; and a mountainous mass of masonry, built for a king’s tomb. So, standing right in front of both, Nancy and Frank got that wondrous thrill coming from attaining a long, long wish. From Cairo to Italy, Spain, London, Paris, and that grand Atlantic sail, landing at Boston, and hustling by fast train (but how slow it did go!!) to Branton Hills! So, along about Thanksgiving Day, about half of its population was again at its big railway station, for Nancy was coming back. (And Frank, too, if anybody should ask you.)
And with that big Municipal Band a-booming and blaring, and that crowd of our old Organization girls pushing forward, did Branton Hills look good to Nancy? And did Nancy look good to Branton Hills? What a glorious tan, from days and days on shipboard! And was that old Atlantic ugly? Ask Frank, poor chap, who, as on that big Pacific, had found out just what a ship’s rail is for! And that stomachs can turn most amazing flip-flops if an old boat is too frisky!
In just an instant, actual count, Nancy was in Lady Gadsby’s arms, fighting valiantly to hold back a flood of big, happy sobs; and Frank was busy, grabbing a cloud of hands surging towards him.
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