‘But if you must fight so furiously, I don’t see how I can promise not to do it again. "She has, she has," said Jack, in a broken voice. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. ” He did not agree with that. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. It’s no good hiding it any more. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall.
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