At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. Her patience was waning fast. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. ‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs. She could think of nothing more to say. ’ ‘But you must want more. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. . ’ ‘What?’ gasped Gerald, shocked. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid.
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