’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. Accompanied by Sir Cecil, who still continued passionately enamoured of his sister, and to whom he represented that she had fallen a victim to the arts of a seducer, he set off, at fiery speed, for the metropolis. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. ‘Yes, don’t interrupt me,’ said Captain Roding severely. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. Attempts were made upon the door of the Lodge; but it was too strong to be forced.
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