‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. He misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that. He next twisted the heavy gyves round and round, and partly by main strength, partly by a dexterous and well-applied jerk, sapped asunder the central link by which they were attached to the padlock. But it was of no avail. Miss Charvill. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead.
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