"So you shall, Sir," replied Austin, who at this moment recollected, with some uneasiness, the applications at the lodge-door during the night. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap.
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