"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men.
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