Saint Giles's Round-house. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. That’s why we are here. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone.
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