Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. They had their little dreams about her. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. ” “Lady Ferringhall—alone?” Ennison exclaimed. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. She had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. ” He said with a laugh. .
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