She made an abrupt personal appeal. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement. “But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. It needs cultivating, I think. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. CHAPTER III.
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