Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. “Mrs. Sheppard," said Wood in a soothing tone.
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