For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. "Stop, Caliban," interposed Mrs. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest.
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