He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. In the first place, Mrs. “They all catch on,” she said. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. “He looks as though he did, at any rate. On the other a wretched engraving of the Chevalier de Saint George, or, as he was styled in the label attached to the portrait, James the Third, raised a suspicion that the inmate of the house was not altogether free from some tincture of Jacobitism.
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