She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. But he has since acquitted you of any share in it. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. She took to listening through closed doors. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire.
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