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She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. ” She laid her hand softly upon his. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. CHAPTER XVIII. At last, she breathed. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. If we were set upon I could not defend you. Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it.
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