When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. The new-comer looked at Charcam. “Please, stay a while longer. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. "This alters the case materially. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. " "Then we won't even show you that mercy," retorted the thief-taker brutally.
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