Anna was afterwards astonished at her own selfpossession. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. " "It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful effort; "but never allude to the circumstance again. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely.
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