That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. After a careful search below, he could detect no trace of Blueskin. Before Wood had time to inquire into the cause of this sound, his attention was diverted by a man, who rushed past the entry with the swiftness of desperation.
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