CHAPTER XXIX. He recognized me at once, and he behaved like a madman. Always as black and bitter as gall. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. Your aunt liked the pheasant. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. " "As you please, Sir," replied the tapstress, coolly. "I declare you throw me into an ague. I’m okay.
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