"Coupling their presence with Jack's speech, I couldn't help fearing some mischief might ensue. He did not speak for a moment. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. " "It's Jonathan Wild," returned the widow, endeavouring to alarm him. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. ” The young man accepted the letter and the message, and seemed about to close the door when a lady issued from one of the front rooms and intervened. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter.
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