” “What?” He asked. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. 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. That’s the fact of the matter. Your husband could have told you that. ‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. I want to talk to you, and I must return tomorrow. Set the boy free.
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