“Bless you, sweetheart. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. "I'm afraid I must decline to tell you. I’m okay. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. Did you really doubt if I knew?” “No. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home.
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