And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. ‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it. A time may come,—and that ere long,—when you will be glad to purchase my secrets, and your own safety, at a dearer price than the heads of your companions. She was no longer there. G'night, kids.
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