. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. “Why should it matter?” he said. Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and imprisoned in Courtlaw’s burning fingers.
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