Nevertheless Sydney, clumsily, but earnestly, had something to say about it. ’ ‘A French ghost?’ ‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had rejoined, his tone affronted. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. “Does Mr.
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