And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. Wood, would preclude the possibility of his remaining with his new friends as long as his inclinations prompted.
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