His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. Anna passed serenely out. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. Earles strode into the waiting-room. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare.
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