” “Sir John is an ass!” he declared. So soft. I’ll announce myself. An uncomfortable silence followed. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. 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. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. CHAPTER XXII. ” “Delusion!” he muttered, glaring at her.
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