He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. "The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok,—Thames Darrell, is returned. ‘I allow anyone in. " "I'm sure I'm very sorry. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. "Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him.
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