One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford.
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