Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. “Let’s go in here. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth.
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