“You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. "My friends, Mr. ’ ‘Even if they militiamen weren’t there, miss,’ cautioned her cavalier, ‘you couldn’t go marching into the house open like. " "Company!" echoed Rachel; "at this time of night?" "Company, child," repeated Kneebone.
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