"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. She will not confide in me. "You are angry?" "Very. “I shall be waiting for you there, and in the meantime, if you will help yourself—pray don’t look like that. He's going to ask you to Prom.
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