" "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. You are the High Priestess of Life. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door.
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