Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. ” She turned away. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. . "Help!—help, Mr. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. " "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. “—but this cannot be.
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