She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. “John,” she said, “I can spare you that question. I suppose it depends on her own state of mind. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. Her fingers opened and the weapon fell from her nerveless grasp. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked. He—wanted to marry me. "You have all the world before you. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him.
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