At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. Drink for him had a queer phase. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. They laughed and talked and stared about them. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute.
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