Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined. Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. To her, marriage would be a buckler against the two evils which pursued her. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself.
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