The Stapletons of Merripit House
He spoke unconcernedly, but his small light eyes glanced incessantly from the girl to me.
“You have introduced yourselves, I can see.”
“Yes. I was telling Sir Henry that it was rather late for him to see the true beauties of the moor.”
“Why, who do you think this is?”
“I imagine that it must be Sir Henry Baskerville.”
“No, no,” said I. “Only a humble commoner, but his friend. My name is Dr. Watson.”
A flush of vexation passed over her expressive face.
“We have been talking at cross purposes,” said she.
“Why, you had not very much time for talk,” her brother remarked, with the same questioning eyes.
“I talked as if Dr. Watson were a resident instead of being merely a visitor,” said she. “It cannot much matter to him
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