My only love is for my poor lost son. . 59 He was not present during the night the next morning, or the next, or the next. The man lingered. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. He is the kind of man who would much prefer a little dust in his eyes. "My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention.
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