The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “Even Katy Pfister can’t touch you now. Fifty in advance. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. "Instantly, Hobson," returned Lady Trafford; "as soon as the carriage can be brought round.
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