He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. " He patted her hand. So, let's think no more about it. ‘Keep still, for God’s sake! Hilary will send him off all right and tight, never fear. " "You're strangely superstitious, Sir Rowland," said Jonathan, halting, and looking steadfastly at him. .
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