He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. He sat down. He offered me at once an engagement. Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew. “I’m next, Mr. B. Wood. . " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. There was Major Price—you must recollect him, Sir Rowland,—he stumbled as he was getting out of his chair at that very gate. She made a step forward.
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