" "I fancied I heard voices," rejoined Sir Rowland. ” “I don’t know. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. She uttered a little ejaculative note of joy and rushed to the bed. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is.
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