” “It’s so strange to think of you—troubled by such things. I will write to your major, and you will send the letter very quickly. When I gave him an invitation to supper, I little thought he'd accept it. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. Mr. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders.
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