’ The lady uttered a scornful sound. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. Here, put it on your finger. She wanted to live. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. ” “I had some unexpected business,” Courtlaw answered shortly. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her.
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