Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders.
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