It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. I could be presented as Meysey Hill. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him.
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