She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. The guineas are not for serving your mistress. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. Miss Mary to the life. They’ll know.
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