‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. The truth at once flashed across his mind. Even if you pretend sometimes to be without sense. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment.
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