"Well, Lady Trafford," he said, fixing a severe look upon her. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. She opened and read it at once. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. I could not keep away any longer. “It is no good playing a game. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can.
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