There were two sisters, you know. At six o'clock, the wicket was shut; and at nine, the jail was altogether locked up. 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. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. “Yes, I remember you now. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. “You’ve got to take the decent reasonable way. "I'll make myself intelligible before I've done," rejoined Wild. ‘Here we go again. "Where are you going?" she asked. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. “He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered.
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