"Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. “Listen to me. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. Sheppard from his elevated position. She would have to leave very soon.
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