“You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. ’ ‘Married?’ ‘I did mention Madame Valade, did I not?’ At that, a growl of startling ferocity escaped her lips.
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