"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. His food lay untouched about his plate. “It was inevitable,” he declared. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. Just let him down easy, Lucy. Her mother had prepared her for everything.
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