—'It's all up with us,' says he; 'they've taken away our charter. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. " At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. No man knew whence she had come nor why. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. "What does Mr.
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