“They all catch on,” she said. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. I know now that I was mistaken. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. But he reckoned without his host.
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