Sir John waved her back. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. Let her see what she could make here. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed.
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