The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. CHAPTER X. . He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. ‘Expect? He’s had a twenty-four hour watch on Remenham House these two days. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished.
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