The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. And if he would, I would not subject him to the annoyance. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. “Mid-thirties. "Off with him to Newgate!" cried Jonathan. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse.
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