As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. "But pray tell me if her husband has escaped?" "Her husband!" echoed Jonathan scornfully. Her anger died and she eyed him. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. ’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly.
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