’ Fury rippled again. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed. Most of them didn’t, anyhow. "Go!" said Lady Trafford; "it is my last request.
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