She stared at him. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. ” Capes suddenly abandoned his attitude of meditative restraint. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. Overjoyed beyond measure at having vanquished this apparently-insurmountable obstacle, Jack darted through the door. He figures them out, though.
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