" CHAPTER V. . "Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. They are the only happy women in the Orient. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within.
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