9. " "I'll ring for one," replied Kneebone, rising accordingly; "but I fear my servants are gone to bed. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. " "You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire. Wood,—"he'll never mend. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. You shall know the truth. ” The girl sat up and looked at him with a curious twist at the corners of her mouth —humorous or pathetic, he could not tell which.
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