The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. By-the-bye,” he added, in a suddenly altered tone, “I hope, I trust—that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one here?” “I—oh no!” Anna said, a little faintly. “You have the ideas. ‘I can’t tell you the times I’ve wished for a gun to point at Hilary’s head.
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