‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. Been making herself at home all right. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. "That's usual.
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