She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. But you have, haven’t you?’ He tutted again. 176 “No, it’s very good. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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