"
"Mollie!"
"Oh, what's the use of Mollieing?" cried the young lady, waxing
impatient. "I was taken somewhere, and I don't know where--'pon my word
and honor, I don't--and I was kept a prisoner in a nasty room, by people
I don't know, to punish me for flirting, I was told; and when I was
there two weeks, and punished sufficiently, Heaven knows, I was fetched
home. Guardy, there's everything I know or can tell you about the
matter. Now, please be good, and don't bother with tiresome questions."
Mr. Walraven stood and looked at her, a petrified gazer. Such unheard-of
impudence! Sir Roger Trajenna took up the catechism.
"Your pardon, Mollie, but I must ask you a few more questions. There was
a young person brought you a letter on the night we were--" His voice
failed. "May I ask who was that young person, and what were the contents
of that letter?"
Mollie looked up, frowning impatiently. But the baronet was so pale and
troubled asking his questions that she had not the heart to refuse.
"That young person, Sir Roger, called herself Sarah Grant.
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