Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled. He could not permit her to remain in that position. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet.
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