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. . It was time to get up. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. ‘You are there. "By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. ’ Melusine shrugged. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. “TROUSERS!” she whispered.
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