Stanley professed a great solicitude to warm his hands. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House.
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