And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle. "And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, "I've a piece o' good news for you. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. That is what my mother used to call me. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport.
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