Her eyes flashed. ‘Think I’m fool enough to do my business in a convent?’ he said scornfully. I don't want her hurt. He bullied frankly. Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. "Because the prisoner's arrival might disturb you—ha! ha!" "I'll lay you twenty guineas you don't take him to-night," rejoined Austin. Why? What is she to you?” “I was there by accident,” Ennison answered.
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