He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. She had thought of the lawyer who conducted the Remenham business, but she knew not where to find him. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. If she mentioned Ramage he might have a fit—anything might happen.
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