Ireton and Langley had returned from a second unsuccessful search; Marvel had come thither to bid good-night to Mrs. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. She got home every night in time to cook supper and it was good money. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. Promise me one thing before I leave you. I did not lay any traps for her.
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