Spurlock mused over the previous night. She recoiled. “By-the-bye,” he said, presently, “your sister was married to old Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t she? I saw the notice in the papers. The scrutiny of any strange man provoked a sweaty terror. I have an engagement with a theatrical agent—I believe for the ‘Unusual’. Let us walk about. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. She could even think of what had happened.
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