In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. Must be plenty of work for you to do. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. She had found him! Excitement welled. “You were going to answer it?” “Certainly not!” she said deliberately. Spurling had retired for the night. “Oh, much better.
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