A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly. I'll lay my life he's gone. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. His smile faded. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin. Wood; "he has gone out without leave, and has taken Thames Darrell with him. . .
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