‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing. Good night. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. Sheppard trembled violently; and though she understood his meaning too well, she answered,—"I can't guess.
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