"I'll tell you," replied Jack, with forced calmness. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. You may fall into the hands of your enemy. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. Hips tended to be the bane of Shari’s existence as she tried diet after diet to get rid of them.
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