A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. Or else he was indeed obsessed. When he returned, it was always the same.
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