"Wretch!" cried Jack. The washerwoman reported that she had seen a man one day riding out for an early morning hunt, but was unsure of his identity. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. “Of course I mean, who was she?” “I believe that her name was Pellissier,” Ennison answered. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck.
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