"I want to know what you've done with the rest of the notes—with the gold— and the papers you took away from my room!" rejoined Wild. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt.
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