Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. "I've just recollected that my husband left a key with me, which he charged me to give you when I could find an opportunity. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol. And I've already told you the accident was not Jack's fault. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song.
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