At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. Take care of yourselves, gentlemen, and your governor will take care of you. “Come this way,” he said. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. How the deuce, though, am I going to account for her? People will be asking questions when they see her; and if I tell the truth, they'll start to snubbing her. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. It was enough that she witnessed it and could not go to him. Barring that the Valade fellow had sneaked back.
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