"Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?" asked the man as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount. Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon her, “forty at the ‘Unusual,’ two turns, encores voluntary, six for matinées. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. “She’s going to have some sort of meal with the Widgetts down the Avenue, and go up with them. Sooner or later she’s going to run away again, and I want Frith to follow her and find out where she’s living.
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