At no time did she feel bodily or mental fatigue. " CHAPTER IX. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. He must have married when he was quite a young man. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor. Anyhow, that is how things are. There would be no mercy in this man. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door.
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