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. They must see the prisoner at the hatch. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face.
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