" Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. . ” She grinned. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. "And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence.
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