CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Here she walked more slowly, looking constantly at the notices in the shop windows. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. Wood glanced at the hardy offender, and not liking the expression of his countenance, thought it advisable to postpone the execution of his threats to a more favourable opportunity. Lucy's ears were singing. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. ’ ‘To you,’ she said angrily. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip.
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