"No, no," rejoined Thames; "fly—or I will not answer for your safety. “Please stay,” she said briefly. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning's adventure. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him.
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