The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. Jack, meanwhile, with Blueskin's assistance, had set the table once more upon its legs, and placing writing materials, which he took from a shelf, upon it, made Shotbolt, who was still gagged, but whose arms were for the moment unbound, sit down before them. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. V. “I forbid it!” she said firmly. ‘I have only borrowed it. I’m sorry I ruined dinner.
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