‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. I didn’t understand. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. " "Indeed!" rejoined Sir Rowland, haughtily; "perhaps, you will refresh my memory as to the time, and place.
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