‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. “The fact of it is, and this absurd project of yours only brings it to a head, you have begun to get hold of some very queer ideas about what a young lady in your position may or may not venture to do. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand.
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