He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house.
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