Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. We were only—les autres. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. "You've perjured yourself.
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