"Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. ‘Taken the girl with him. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. " "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan.
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