"They'll escape. I——” The door was thrown open. I'll have no such toast drunk at my table!" "It's the king's birthday," urged the woollen draper. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. All this was the work of a minute. Anna was no favourite at No. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person.
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