He stood up abruptly and went to the window. My dress, my person will be minutely described. More than ever Sir John was glad that he had sat down. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue.
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