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Still, one never could tell. CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. "Well reminded," answered Rowland, who had witnessed his struggles with a smile of gratified vengeance; "I had forgotten the accursed imp in this confusion. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due.
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