“My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. ‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Saling. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland.
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