Spurling in alarm. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. ” The man’s face was dark with passion. That was one of the compensations for having consigned himself to this part of the world. "But what does he mean by calling you a wanton? —you, my wife?" Enschede's hand slipped from his daughter's shoulder. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. E.
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