Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. ’ ‘Addlepated imbecile, Hilary,’ corrected Gerald calmly. Come in! Come in, do. That was life. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. He even thought he could detect the voice of Jonathan, urging and directing them. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that.
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