’ ‘I’m afraid you are right. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. This is the first act. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. ’ The sergeant’s air became positively avuncular. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind.
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