“Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. If you choose, you can see him put on board the Zeeslang yourself, Sir Rowland. ‘Poor Mary had no idea about the elopement Nicholas had undertaken,’ she told Gerald.
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