She leaned back in her chair. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. Not a word passed between them. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. “You might have given me a chance, anyway. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again.
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