"You don't eat," continued Kneebone, addressing Jack, who had remained for some time thoughtful, and pre-occupied with his head upon his hand. "Tell me that, and I will believe you. I should scarcely have known you. It’s these damned novels. It fell to the ground and smoked ominously. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. Old Lancashire families both. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband—I have only him. The detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table.
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