’ ‘Eh? Why did you not say so, man?’ demanded Hilary crossly. She laughed altogether in her old manner. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. Tell her, that more than once, when about to commit some desperate offence, I have been restrained by her gentle image. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being.
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