"Wretch!" cried Jack. “You have not seen your sister lately,” he remarked. For a few minutes he kept them at bay. “Please don’t be sad. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. The disgrace of the leaders of the late Tory administration had strengthened, rather than injured, their cause. That's a queer yarn.
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