"Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. Anna’s face however was wholly impassive. Let me make your future for you. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones.
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