Spurlock halted in his tracks. Kneebone. He moved to one side, bowing and gesturing to the door. ’ ‘Not French?’ echoed Hilary. Her favor was sought beyond all women’s favors. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.
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