The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. ” Her hands fell to her side. I want a walk.
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