They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. ’ She stopped, for Jack was feebly laughing. Where even to be a Catholic, they say, is to be looked upon with scorn and disgust. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek.
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