CHAPTER XXVIII. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. ” He stood quite silent for a moment, his eyes fixed upon her face. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. She looked in the rear-view mirror. But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. And as for not knowing me, you abominable little liar, you’re perfectly aware that we met at Remenham House. When Mr.
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