“But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. Are you sure you haven't mistaken the ward, Mr. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ’ ‘I don’t want to think it,’ he said, and she thrilled to the savagery in his tone.
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