But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. . ” She said bitterly. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope.
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