The storm burst upon them in its fury. The next moment he was by her side. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. ‘Parbleu, you waste time. . ’ ‘But what of justice?’ asked Lucilla, evidently dazed. "Well, Lady Trafford," he said, fixing a severe look upon her. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there.
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