A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. ” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. Jack, meanwhile, with Blueskin's assistance, had set the table once more upon its legs, and placing writing materials, which he took from a shelf, upon it, made Shotbolt, who was still gagged, but whose arms were for the moment unbound, sit down before them. An unwelcome idea came to him.
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