‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Gracious, there’s the gong. "I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. " "Be it so!" rejoined Sir Rowland, with concentrated fury; "but before we do part, I am resolved to know the name of your pretended husband!" "Torture shall not wrest it from me," answered his sister, firmly.
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