‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. \" That again. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips.
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