He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. Got detained in the City, and——” Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. Eh bien, they would see about this. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman.
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