"Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. He had deliberately saved it for last. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. ” Again that curious smile which puzzled him so much parted her lips for a moment. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. He slapped his knee. “You see, I will take your arm.
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