The Broken Thread
By William Le Queux
9 Mar, 2020
"No. I mean the girl in black. The one leading the pom." "By jove! Yes. She's uncommonly smart, isn't she?" "Her friend isn't half bad-looking, either?" "I don't think so very much of her, Raife. But Southport at this time of year is always full of p
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"No. I mean the girl in black. The one leading the pom." "By jove! Yes. She's uncommonly smart, isn't she?" "Her friend isn't half bad-looking, either?" "I don't think so very much of her, Raife. But Southport at this time of year is always full of pretty girls." "Not one of them can compare with the girl in black-she's ripping!" declared Raife Remington, a tall, well-set up, dark-haired, hatless undergraduate, who, in grey flannels, was walking beside his college chum, Edward Mutimer, at whose father's house he was staying during the vac. Both were at Trinity, Cambridge, and both, being in their last year, were reading hard for their degrees. Each morning in those warm August days by the summer sea they came out for a stroll on the seafront; bright with movement and gaiety, taking an airing before settling down to their studies for the day. Less