” “I will think of it,” she promised. There was something very wrong. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter. "Despatch him!" roared Jonathan.
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