Having no more patience, I drew you aside to give you a compliment on your radiant beauty. ” She stepped into the curtains as Martin stared daggers. “I really owe him something of an apology. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance.
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