Her prevailing effect was one of quiet and complete assurance, as though she knew all about everything, and was only restrained by her instinctive delicacy from telling what she knew. "Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. Suddenly she thrust her head out of the window. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. Never be downhearted. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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