Stanley lost patience. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. “You love some one else?” he repeated. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. . During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. The theme was a masquerade. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece.
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