Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. ’ ‘Why should you care?’ demanded Roding, exasperated. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said.
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