CHAPTER XXIII. "Marry, come up! Mightn't he just as reasonably complain of your being a Hanoverian and a Presbyterian? It's all matter of opinion. She hated the manor. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. That’s really what I want to discuss. “So you’d best open your coffers. ’ ‘You always were an old sobersides, even as a boy,’ retorted the major, who was close on thirty now, yet as ripe for excitement as he had been on receiving his first commission at sixteen. I had no idea!” She sat down abruptly and threw her wrists limply upon the table. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. Reaching the panel, she was able with the aid of her lantern to find the lever at once.
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