But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. ’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. Moving room to room it was. She drew it out with shaking fingers. . ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. Which is also puzzling. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. She was no longer there. Mrs. . Lucy wore it every day from then on.
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