" "Tell it. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. Her heels made contact with Rhea’s knees and hobbled her with a crack. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. ‘You have rifled his papers. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger's ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road. " And she left the room with Blueskin, who very politely offered her his arm. "Here is my purse; and I trust you will let me know to whom I am indebted for this important service. . ' That has always haunted me.
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