"As yet," pursued the stranger, "Sir Montacute had placed no limit to his son's expenditure. He was accompanied by Ireton and Austin. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap.
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