’ Bitterness rose up as he looked at the female. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. “One can’t tell. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. It could not go on much longer, her luck.
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