Part 3 For a time they walked in silence through the back streets that lead southward from the College. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. Once upon a time she and Roddy had descended thence by the drain-pipe. “Now she’s all hat and ideas,” he said, with an air of humor. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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