He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. "Have you been more successful, Sir?" ventured Ireton. "I thought I heard a noise. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. The progress of time was marked in Mr. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife.
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