He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. While I am talking about your friends, I feel—I think you ought to know how I look at it. It was his tall stance and his pale skin that drew him out of the crowd. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose.
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