Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. But when he looked again, there she was! "I don't understand," he said, finally. "Instantly, Hobson," returned Lady Trafford; "as soon as the carriage can be brought round.
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