“I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. Before her was a great Gothic portal. Now, no more questions, or I shall be forced to leave the room. Every one turned to her in astonishment. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph.
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