’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. Kneebone, then, sat down to await the arrival of his expected guest. Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality.
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