‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure.
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