"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. Looking for something, or someone, probably. I love. ” She felt his heart warming the small room like a radiator. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London.
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