“I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. Stopping before each door, they took up the plates of the locks, examined the ponderous bolts, and were struck with the utmost astonishment at what they beheld. She would not be driven in by this persistent, sneaking aggression. Never. The knowledge breathed into her heart a satisfying warmth. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly.
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