’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. III. Go on and tell me. “You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. ’ ‘Gone off?’ repeated Melusine, her wrongs rising up to tear into her chest.
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