"You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. "Is she returned!" "Y—e—s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. ” “Then may I come to the study to-night—after dinner?” “I’m—BUSY!” “It’s important. .
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