Smith had never seen anything like it. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place. So it was with Gosse, who had wanted to marry her. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband.
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