"'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. " And, with this, he coolly re-adjusted his peruke. Paul’s, were rich and wonderful with the soft sunshine of London, the softest, the finest grained, the most penetrating and least emphatic sunshine in the world. Above all, beware of Sir Rowland Trenchard. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. She was surprised at his modesty. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came.
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