He reached over and took her hand. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. She did not wait, but grabbed up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry. 1. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey.
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