She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. Courtlaw, is it not,” she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. I sha'n't utter a word. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. “Nigel, don’t you understand. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. A little love from him would be enough.
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