As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. "Take this key to Baptist Kettleby. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. You can’t go. "Coupling their presence with Jack's speech, I couldn't help fearing some mischief might ensue. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something.
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