‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm. " "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting. ” Her mind went off to Capes. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre.
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