‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. “I MUST speak to you,” he said. "The marriage was never consummated," continued the imperturbable stranger. “A volatile temperament—yes, a volatile temperament,” Mr. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers.
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