Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. He had been quite right to sit down. The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit. ’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand.
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