In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. "You shall never behold me alive. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly.
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