" "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. "I would sacrifice all my fortune—all my hopes —to liberate him. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. Her moods were many and always striking. Michelle looked at their reflections in the wall mirror.
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