Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. She doubted if Manning would even listen to that. I must know what new thing has come between us that she should treat me as a lover one day and a monster the next. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. She had no idea what she should do. It fell with a clatter to the floor. So the talk went on. Gifts came from Florence: rubies and emeralds, a beautiful statue of Santa Maria for their garden grotto, a gorgeous silk tapestry of a hunting scene that alone made the price of her dowry look paltry. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time.
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