The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room.
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