. ’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. But I will never—never return. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes.
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