"That's for myself," rejoined Mrs. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. She must kill this man, or kill herself. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished.
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