" "My father was of the blood-royal of France," exclaimed Thames. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. " Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. “Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. “You are beautiful, Lucy.
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