"Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort. You must—you shall be mine. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. Jonathan, however, paid no sort of attention to this demonstration of hatred. ” The maid discreetly withdrew, and Anna stood transfixed, gazing with puzzled frown at her sister.
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