"Nobody shall," cried Mr. " "Right," answered Ireton. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. I want to get away. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you.
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