Are you sure you're not misinformed, Sir?" "I was in the Lodge at the time," replied the jailer. "You are out betimes this morning, Mr. He then spoke with a certain fatherly kindliness of the past. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. Another long interval elapsed. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them.
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