” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. ” She went as far as her door, then turned to the window. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration.
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