“Act three. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. "Thank you; but I've a pocket full of water-chestnuts. ’ ‘Don’t count on it. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms.
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