CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. “Lucy, you. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. If you can do any good with him, it's more than we can.
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