And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. I don’t mind telling you chaps that except on the stage I haven’t set eyes on her this side of the water. "Don't swear, Jack, or I shall distrust you. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away.
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