There was just time for the girl to raise her arm to chest height and draw it back before Roding seized her. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. She was consumed by misery and hate. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. Mr. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. . CHAPTER XXIV. .
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