“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. "Well?" he whispered. It has been purchased by blood!" "What! have you cut old Wood's throat?" asked Wild, with great unconcern, as he took up the bag. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. " "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently.
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