’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. I’ve been on the watch for you. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. Then she stood up and looked around the room. "Are you hurt, Thames?" asked Jack, anxiously.
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