Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. And if this soi-disant Valade had already gone to Monsieur Charvill— ‘Very well,’ she said to Jack without turning round, ‘but now is Wednesday.
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