At the farther end of the Lodge, the floor was raised to the height of a couple of steps; whence the whole place, with the exception of the remotest corner of the angle before-mentioned, could be commanded at a single glance. And now, a fair exchange, Sir. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. He would have to probe further. His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. She pointed hither and yon, smiled and shook her head. Ramage, and might describe the affair to him, she cried “Oh!” with renewed vexation, and repeated some steps of her dance in a new and more ecstatic measure. "Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him.
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