"Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. Can you wonder that I expect you to fulfil yours?” “I am not aware,” she answered, “that I have ever failed in doing so. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. “Have either of you been out of this room since you discovered what had happened?” he asked. "Thank you," she said, and left the office.
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