"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. She hated the manor. All her life Martha had been there. "Leave go!" cried Jack, struggling violently, and raising his hand, "or I'll maul you for life. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. Move. He no longer made love to her, as there was no point.
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