"No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. ’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. You did not learn that in a convent. Ireton, you are in league with him.
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