A man came out, and walking recklessly, almost cannoned into Ennison. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. ” Lucy stated. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. “We played at love-making in Paris. And if you mean to use that dagger to slip the lock, you’ll make enough noise to bring ten spies down on us.
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