"Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. “Come this way,” he said. I'm safe enough if you hold your tongue. Sydney sprang up. What his head conceived his hand executed. She rose to the fire to stoke it. “No power on earth will persuade me we’re not two rather disreputable persons. It was exactly as Sebastian had foreseen. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet.
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