’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis. “This wonderful affection of yours for my sister, does it date from your first meeting with her in Paris?” He hesitated. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt. Her anger parlayed with her confusion, as she realized that the new marriage was about as optional as the first one and her hunger was growing inside her like a weed.
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