C. Wood, contemptuously, "he'll never mend till he comes to Tyburn. “You are late,” she murmured. He seemed to have expected them. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments.
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