The Night-Cellar. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. Jack was a comical scoundrel, and made a little too free with his grace's best burgundy, as well as his grace's favourite housekeeper. “He is one of our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before dinner-time. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones.
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