” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. The guineas are not for serving your mistress. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. ” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows.
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