The impassivity of her features changed at last. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. “So very clear and cold,” she said. I do swear. Attempts were made upon the door of the Lodge; but it was too strong to be forced. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol.
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