The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. ’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. Spurlock—for that's his real name—were married at high noon. ‘What?’ ‘Nothing,’ snapped Roding, with an odd look at his bride to be that Gerald could not interpret. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish.
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