Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. She twisted to meet him and folded into his embrace. " "'Bloody and deceitful men shall not live half their days'," said Wood, reading aloud another passage. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. Not these twenty year. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that.
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