“What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. 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. He next twisted the heavy gyves round and round, and partly by main strength, partly by a dexterous and well-applied jerk, sapped asunder the central link by which they were attached to the padlock. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. So good an opportunity may never occur again.
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