"To-night, your ladyship?" ventured an elderly domestic. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. "Go on. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen.
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