"Back!" cried Jack fiercely: "lay a finger on her, and I will fell you to the ground. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. Then she saw him. The Night-Cellar. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. " "Never fear," replied Jack.
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