‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. get in. ’ ‘Can’t say as I’m sorry to hear you say that, missie,’ confessed the sergeant, on a relieved note, as he locked the front door of the mansion and pocketed the key. This intelligence, which she instantly communicated to the carpenter, drove him almost frantic. She is no longer mine; she is yours.
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