What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. A sacrifice. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. She hoped fervently that Martin had not divulged his crush to Brown.
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