Spurling. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Wood was once a favourite of yours. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope she landed in safety. He was angry.
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