This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. CHAPTER XIV. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. I wonder ——” “London is a huge place,” Brendon said. Wood. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. "Do you think I would take a harlot to my bed, if it didn't suit my purposes to do so?" "He says right," replied Mrs. ” “But I didn’t lose it that way, did I?” She grew hysterical. ’ She tossed her head.
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