Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. Stopping before each door, they took up the plates of the locks, examined the ponderous bolts, and were struck with the utmost astonishment at what they beheld. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. ‘She would not tell me. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that.
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