There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged. "To me?" gasped Winifred. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open. The doctor frowned. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality.
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