‘Don’t fob me off, boy. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. ‘Quite mad, nuns are. She fled. . I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. “I love you, Ann Veronica. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape.
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