" "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. "Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children, Sir? Answer me that. . “I came directly I was disengaged,” Anna answered.
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