"Yes—what do you mean, Ma'am?" added Jack, staggering after her. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment.
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