CHAPTER XII. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. “It is possible,” Courtlaw said, “that you too were deceived. What might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. McClintock sent his yacht over for us this morning. "No," rejoined Thames, "I won't be treated like a common felon, if I can help it. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. He knew she had been weeping. “You don’t want to go?” “No. “Eight, Cavendish Square. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that.
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