CHAPTER III. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. There was just a minute’s hesitation before they gave her a room. Love stories! It was of negligible importance that these books were bound in paper; Romance lay unalterably within. She would not forgive me.
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