Laughed at me, then. The scrutiny of any strange man provoked a sweaty terror. "Well?" he whispered. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. Think, ma’am. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road.
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