“No doubt about that,” Meddoes continued. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. And Pottiswick, of course. " And she burst into a wild hysterical laugh. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars.
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