’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. "You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. "You poor child!" said Prudence. " Sir Rowland moved irresolutely towards the door, but recoiled before a sad spectacle. . It was a brief solitude, however.
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