She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Her confession was still unmade. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. " "Well!" remarked Jonathan, who had paid little attention to the latter part of the conversation: "this is an awkward business certainly: but we must do the best we can in it.
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