Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. He's now in spring-ankle warehouse with Sir Rowland Trenchard. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision.
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