Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Bullding,” she declared. Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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