The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. ” She stepped into the curtains as Martin stared daggers. So I asks the maid a few questions like, and it seems it ain’t Mister Charvill they’re going to visit again, but General Charvill. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. “I don’t know.
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