” He examined the emerald in his hands and placed it carefully on the glass table. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. ’ Which effectually silenced her.
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