For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. It would be the culmination of her plan. "You've charged with assisting your comrade, Jack Sheppard, to purloin certain articles of value from a jewel-case belonging to Lady Trafford. "I thought you were asleep. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. Even her own history teacher, Mr. ” “Of course,” his friend answered. "Yon's a dear man," said McClintock. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her.
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