” She trailed off as the smell hit her nose. ” “You could never be that,” he answered, “but you are at least more serious than usual. She had come to the end of her resources. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. Not at all. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly.
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