She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. Stanley as they drew alongside, to account for his own ruffled and heated expression. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. She turned back into the hall. “I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. ” He shook his head, and threw open the door of a great dimly-lit apartment on the ground floor. Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators.
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