" "You did not hear her when she spoke to her father; I did. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. Ennison,” she said, letting her fingers rest in his. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. McClintock liked it. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open.
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