“Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. "Oh! you did, did you?" said the janizary. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. Me, you may have. Gerald instantly took her arm and guided her back to her chair. " As familiar as Quilt Arnold himself with every part of Wild's mysterious abode, as well as with the ways of its inmates, Jack, without a moment's hesitation, took up a lamp which was burning in the hall, and led his companion up the great stone stairs.
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