’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. ” She saw him flinch, but he gave no sign of it in his tone. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. ’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. "What is this!" cried Sir Rowland. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing.
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