He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. " "Pray cease this nonsense," said Winifred, "and quit the room, or I will call for assistance. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. ” “I suppose so.
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