There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. Her efforts were vain. E. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes.
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