She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. “As my lady wills. ‘Aye, that she was. \"I wasn't aware that I had rejected him, or so harshly. Have you suffered?" "Dear God!… every hour since!" "The Spurlock conscience. It was not your fault you failed. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door.
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