’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. “Why should it matter?” he said. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. “I say!” he cried. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. You know what's what. ’ ‘What if she goes back to Charvill?’ demanded Roding. .
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