It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford. “I knew Mr. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife.
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