Chapter XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. She heard him come in; the light burned on. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. ToC Tyburn was now at hand. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. I’m not discussing Shakespeare.
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