And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. "You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. . ’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly. I'll show you the Shamien; and we can talk all we want. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat.
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