She had fallen asleep. Sir John once more looked around him. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. She creaked, groaned, and rattled; but that was only her way of yawning when she awoke. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. ” “I came,” Anna answered, looking her sister steadily in the face, “to hear all that you can tell me about a man named Hill. It'll be your turn to save mine next.
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