He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. " He departed, musing. One don't often get sich a vindfal as the Markis——" "Or such a customer as Mr. "My child! my child!" exclaimed Mrs. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. CHAPTER VIII. I desire, Sir, you'll recollect yourself. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place.
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