Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. “I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. Now lend me your own hand. Miss Stanley reflected on this proposal for a moment. He was tall, slender, and suave.
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