"As yet," pursued the stranger, "Sir Montacute had placed no limit to his son's expenditure. "But, pardon my intrusion. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. He had seldom been more perturbed. " Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. “Listen to me.
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