’ ‘A French ghost?’ ‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had rejoined, his tone affronted. No, not one little bit. The lady looked them over in silence, and then pouting lips trembled, dark eyelashes fluttered, and in a broken voice, she pleaded, ‘Honoured messieurs, you will not allow this—this pig, to be thus cruel? He cannot arrest me. ‘The secret passage!’ It did not take long to find the mechanism of the candlesconce that opened the door. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. "You can render no further service to your poor mother. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect.
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